a dog, a scarf and a violin
by crazylittlethings
Summary: Sherlock still hasn't returned, John decides to get a dog and Molly and miss. Hudson appear to know more than they say. This is basically how i would love season three to start. M for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

John stroked the little dogs fur and looked at it. It made him happy. Something that didn't really happen quite that often anymore. He looked up to the owner and smiled.

'I'll take it.' The man handed him the puppy and looked at him in a way that could've been described as a cold stare but somehow there was something more, something strange. John awkwardly broke eye contact and took the small dog in his arms.

'Hey little guy, how are you doing?' he abruptly stopped talking to the little animal when he noticed the old man staring.

'Uhm, how much?'

'Oh you can have it, I'll be glad when it's gone.' The man walked towards the door and John followed behind closely. He looked around the room and felt a shiver run through his spine. He noticed the man had already opened the door and was waiting for him to leave.

'Oh uh, bye.'

'Yeah, yeah whatever.' The door closed behind his back and the puppy yawned before curling up in =johns arms and falling asleep. It was raining and the streets were empty, he sighed, pulled open his umbrella and started walking. He hummed a tune and he noticed the dog had woken up and was slowly wagging its tail.

'Hey, bud, what shall we call you, huh? How about something classic? Something ordinary, something old. My father had a dog just like you, you know?' the dog appeared to be a boxer but he wasn't sure seeing as the man never mentioned it.

'He was named Gladstone I think. I always liked that name, I don't know why… maybe I was just used to it.'

John found himself talking to the little guy, who was now officially named Gladstone, more than he had in the past two years. He also found himself smiling more and more every day. Miss. Hudson noticed john enjoyed the daily walks more and more. But it'd never be the same. There was always this flicker of sadness in the man's eyes. When John came home from meetings with his therapist he was greeted by the happy little Gladstone, waiting to be taken out for a walk and wagging its tail. A few months after he decided to get a dog on a Saturday John decided to look in some boxes he found in the attic a few weeks before. The first two were nothing important but it was in the third one he found something. Something he vaguely remembered, it was… what was it? He wasn't fully sure what it was called but he remembered something of- a deerstalker? He wondered why he had such a strange hat in a box in his attic, he looked at the box and noticed a familiar writing. It was miss. Hudson's.

_Sherlock's stuff._

John's face saddened as the memory of a peculiar hat came to mind. A part of his mind wanted to close the box, lock it out of his mind forever but his hands kept digging. He stumbled upon what appeared to be a skull? A _human_ skull? And something soft, he pulled it out of the box and realized it was a scarf, a bluish scarf and a violin. John pulled the instrument out of the box and looked at it with a sad expression on his face. After a while he noticed miss. Hudson was standing behind him, looking down at him and smiling sadly.

'It hurts, doesn't it?' John just nodded.

'I've been dreading the day you found that box actually.' There was a moment of silence in which John put the violin down and picked up the scarf. He smelled it, hoping to sense the smell that had long ago disappeared.

'Hang in there John, it gets easier.'

'it's been three years miss. Hudson.'

'I know.' He turned around to look at her and saw her walk towards the stairs before she turned around and said 'Gladstone's waiting for his walk, shall I take him out for you?'

'uhm no, I'll do it myself. Something to keep my mind of things.'

John looked around and exhaled slowly. The park was empty, it always was actually. He looked at Gladstone who was happily running around in the rain. It always rained, _it's the curse of living in London_, he thought to himself. He sighed, he was getting sick of it. He missed his old life, he missed solving crimes, he missed that every day was different, he missed running his shitty blog people somehow cared to read, he missed- he missed Sherlock.

On the other side of the park, in a corner John couldn't quite see, there was a man, sitting on a bench, wearing a long grey coat with the collar turned up. He scratched the side of his head, a wig starting to hurt, and pulled out his phone.

{1} new message

I-… I really don't think you should be doing this –Molly

Yeah, well you never know unless you try , Molly –SH

_and you should know,_ he commented in his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: hi! so this is chapter two, i hope you guys like it!**

**disclaimer: i don't own sherlock or there would've been a season three (and four and maybe five) already ;p, it's one thirty am so i'm sorry if there are a few mistakes, please let me know**

* * *

The next day John was awoken by a loud bang. He jumped up and looked around frantically. He saw Gladstone lifting his head at its owners peculiar behavior but didn't seem to have noticed the sound. It must've been a nightmare. '_Another one' _he murmured under his breath. just as he realized this he spotted miss Hudson who appeared to be making a phonecall. He got up and put on a loose grey shirt and a pair of pants, he walked towards the door, which was open, he heard miss Hudson mumble something. Something that appeared to be his name but he couldn't quite make it out seeing as she was speaking quietly and rushed as if the conversation wasn't to be heard. He frowned.

'Miss Hudson?' for a moment she froze but she turned around quickly, mumbling something about having to hang up now. 'Everything okay?' he continued, the look on his face conspicuous. Something was going on and he obviously couldn't know about it.

'Oh, uhm. Yes, of course, John. Why would something be wrong?' she replied nervously, her hands fumbling with the hemline of her cardigan.

'Who were you talking to? I uh- I overheard my name?' at this, she froze again. She looked around frantically, still nervous.

'I uh, I was just talking to your psychiatrist. She, uh, she called this morning.' John didn't believe her, the reply was rushed, cold, she hadn't looked him in the eyes. He was starting to get worried, what was going on? He wanted to know but he didn't confront her, if she was hiding something from him it was probably really important, maybe even dangerous. He'd have to figure it out himself, he didn't want to put her at risk. He walked past her and grabbed his coat.

'C'mon Gladstone, we're going out.' He walked out the door with one last look at miss Hudson's face, she appeared to be- _sorry? Sad? _Was she sad for lying to him? Or was there more behind it. John didn't know what to do, he'd find out, he promised himself. It's just that he had no clue of where to start. And that had been the first in the past two and a half years he'd found himself thinking it, _I wish Sherlock was here. _He looked down at Gladstone who was happily following him as if nothing was going on.

What he didn't know was that as soon as he closed the door the phone rang and a relieved miss Hudson answered it.

'Sherlock? Yeah, yes he's gone. No, I don't think he knows. Sherlock are you sure about this? Just-…, be careful, okay?'

* * *

'so, where do you wanna start boy?' as if understanding the question the dog ran off, sniffed every tree and seemed to follow a trace. _Weird _he thought to himself, but he followed. Gladstone stopped every once in a while for John to catch up. After a few minutes they reached the park. John sighed_, of course, it's a dog why wouldn't he? _Gladstone was waiting for him again, john was tired, he wasn't in the mood for this.

'yeah, yeah sure you can go.' He waved the dog of, knowing it'd come back. He looked around and sighed. Gladstone made his way through the park, sniffing trees and wagging its tail. He kept following the invisible trail until he stumbled upon a bench. The trail seemed to stop. The dog lifted his head and looked around. Something seemed to catch its eye. He walked towards it curiously. He sniffed it and immediately picked it up and ran back to his owner, happy with his catch.

John spotted the dog running towards him. He noticed there was something in its mouth. Something that appeared to be- _a wig? How the heck did he found _that_?_

* * *

'Molly?' Sherlock walked into the room tying a scarf around his neck. 'I'm going out!'

'Where are you going?' she replied while putting on some goggles and turning towards the microscope.

'Oh, just-… out.' Molly sighed and took the goggles off again.

'Sherlock, this is dangerous! You can't just go out whenever you want to. And where's your wig?'

'I got rid of it, it was _extremely_ counter-productive.'

'And by that you mean what? It itched a bit?'

'It did indeed actually.' Sherlock walked out of the room without another word leaving molly to her work.

'At least be careful!'

'Aren't I always, Molly?' Sherlock replied sarcastically while opening the door and walking out the morgue at a fast pace. as soon as he left the building he hailed a cab. He got in and was greeted by the cabbie.

'Where to go, sir?' the smile of the mysterious man went unnoticed.

'Oh, uh… 221b Bakerstreet, but make a detour, I need some time to think things over.'

The man nodded and started the car, the drive was spent in a comfortable silence. It felt as if the men had met before and had known each other their entire life.

'We're here, sir.' The man smirked but once again Sherlock didn't notice. 'do you want me to ride another round?'

'uhm, no. I'll manage.'

Sherlock got out of the car and noticed it was dark already.

'_Goodbye, Mr. Holmes._' Sherlock turned around to face the cabbie, shocked as he didn't remember telling the man his name. The cab had already left but he didn't need a face to know who that voice belonged to. He'd recognize it anywhere. Molly had been right. This was dangerous. Really dangerous. Sherlock banned the thought from his mind, it couldn't. It just couldn't have been him. He turned around and faced the door.

_221b Bakerstreet_, It'd been three years.

A little smile crept on his face. The smile soon turned into a worried and nervous look as he rang the doorbell.

* * *

**a/n: and what'd you think? who's the shady cabdriver? how's john going to react when he finds out about all of this? so yeah, leave me a review, it means the world to me! x**


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n: hi! so this is an early update because i felt like it ;p uhm i also have no idea if this actually makes sense (in my head it does, but i've been told that that's a funny place :p) so if you have a question you can find me on tumblr; steveandtonyshouldfondue**

**disclaimer: i still don't own anything, oh my dad bought me a new pair of shoes tho!**

* * *

John had gone to bed early that night, wondering what was going on behind his back, thinking about Sherlock. Thinking about Gladstone and the wig. Everything. It was the doorbell that woke him, strange. He got up, ignored the barking Gladstone and went to open the door. He didn't know what to expect but he was shocked to see what he found. He opened the door and almost immediately a man came in, he walked past him abruptly. It was Sherlock. A man john had assumed to be dead, for over three year. John followed him around the room, his eyes wide with shock.

'You want coffee? No? okay.' The man turned towards john, he looked somewhat confused. He looked around the flat, not much had changed apart from the food bowls in the right corner of the kitchen, some scratches at the door, a_ dog_ basket next to the couch?

'You got a dog, john? How very inconvenient.' He got back to making coffee john still silent, watching him.

'Something wrong, John?' John didn't know how to respond, before he knew what was going on he was in the man's arms. It was him. It really was.

'What are you doing here?' he said after a while separating his head from the man's neck.

'You asked for one more miracle, john.' Sherlock said as a matter of fact, John's eyes started to tear.

'Yeah, but… I didn't think that- _three years, Sherlock!_' John punched the man's chest weakly.

'What, are you not happy to see me? I, uh… I can go if you want me to.' Sherlock's face puzzled at the situation.

'No! No, it's not that, just, why? Why now? Why not two, _three_ years ago? What was so important that you could just leave me here, _for three years_?'

'It was too dangerous.'

'And now, why do you think it would be safe _now_?'

'_Weeeell…_' John stared at him blankly.

'Well? What do you mean '_well'_, you can't just _'well'_ me, Sherlock, that's not an explanation! Talking about explanations, you kinda owe me one!' John was getting mad and as he tried to move away he realized he was still trapped in the other man's arms, Sherlock noticed this too and abruptly let go. Sherlock let out a sigh of annoyance and motioned for John to sit on the small couch facing towards a little TV that had replaced the two comfy chairs that had been there a long time ago. He felt empty at the sight but pushed it away. He turned around and faced john who was now sitting with his arms crossed looking at him expectedly.

'So uhm… What you need to know is, I was in hiding. And I couldn't tell you because I didn't want to bring you in danger. But I couldn't stay away, so that's why I'm here.'

'Yes, but how, Sherlock, I saw you jump! How the heck did you survive that?'

'I wasn't done yet.' He looked at John as to tell him not to interrupt again and swiftly continued; 'Once again John, you saw, but you didn't _observe. _Also; you saw me jump, not fall nor land. Look, Moriarty, he visited me. He said certain things as a sort of hint to what was to come, he didn't think I'd realize. Should've known better, then again he never did. So I knew what was happening, and I found a way to escape. I called Molly-'

'Wait, what? _Molly_ knows about this?'

'_Yes_, I needed her help. So I called her and she helped me _'create'_ a fake body. I jumped, but there was a car waiting, I landed on some garbage bags. We had some people set up, my homelessnetwork, who had the body with them and were waiting for a sign. So, I called you, made you think I was committing suicide, I made you walk back so you didn't see me 'land'. I also made Moriarty go back so he didn't see that either. Then I jumped and I fell on the bags. The homelessnetwork put the body in place and the car drove away. Then as a final part of the plan, a man on a bike drove into you, so you were confused and didn't realize it wasn't actually me.' At the end of his explanation there was a comfortable silence neither of them wanted to break and Gladstone began licking his hand.

'But seriously John, a dog?'

'He's a great friend okay!' Sherlock grinned and before either of them realized they were both snickering.

'But Sherlock? How about Moriarty, Is he gone now?'

'I don't know, John. I guess we'll have to find out.' Sherlock didn't tell john about the cabbie, he wasn't going to ruin this. He wanted him to be happy, that's why he came back after all. John smiled and Sherlock returned it but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

* * *

On the other side of town in an abandoned building there was a man, dressed in one of his usual Westwood suits, an Iphone in hand, a computer screen in front of him and a smirk on his face. He watched the computer screen with great precision, the screen wasn't clear but if you looked closely you'd see the two men, staring at each other, talking, laughing. 'Yes, the camera works, thank you. So the dog never leaves his side, huh? No, no, that's great actually. Just what I needed.' As if impossible the smirk on the man's face grew even wider.

You see, the dog had a collar which he had had from when John had picked it up. John never bothered to switch it seeing as he quite liked the colour of it and the dog seemed to be used to this. Little did he know of the little wireless camera hidden inside. Keeping track of any little movement the dog picked up.

'You're not as genius as you think you are, mister holmes.'

* * *

**a/n: so, did you like it? uhm also the theory on how he survived wasn't my idea (or mine wasn't that detailed) i got it from a video that went around on tumblr a while ago but i lost the link :s **

**reviews make my heart smile c: (well they make me write faster so if you don't like cliffhangers you know what to do!) x**


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